


part two: the brink of the cliff

by orphan_account



Series: no-game au [2]
Category: Vast Error
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coping with trauma, Hurt/Comfort, No Game AU, Other, Quadrant Vacillation, Slice of Life, barely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-04-23 00:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22229368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: whoa dude,... gay people are real???
Relationships: Dismas Mersiv/Murrit Turkin
Series: no-game au [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1548694
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	part two: the brink of the cliff

**Author's Note:**

> remember when i said i was gonna update this series regularly? well

> Be Dismas.

You lie anxiously on a beat-up couch, the lights dimmed to near darkness, forcing you to strain your eyes to see much of anything. But it's not like there's anything you really need to see to begin with; the clutter here is typical, random pieces of junk thrown about like there was a fucking party the night before. You don't expect Murrit of all people to keep his place tidy, and you're not exactly one to judge on the cleanliness of living spaces.

There's a low hum of sound in the other room, a cacophony of television shows accompanied by Murrit's absent-minded mumbling. You're glad it isn't loud enough to pick out the details. Everything sounds a bit muffled regardless, due to... recently acquired head injuries, among the drowsiness that still lingers after waking up from a nap. You wish you were still asleep; at least then you could ignore the sharp ache that blankets nearly your entire body.

How did you get here?

> Dismas: Recall recent events.

To your surprise, the world isn't ending after all. It came out of nowhere, completely clashing with everything you've planned out for the rest of your known existence. In hindsight, you definitely had a massive case of tunnel vision when it came to goals and ideal futures. All you were focused on was killing that goddamn lizard. And look where it got you.

About a wice ago was your most recent near-death experience, and it was a _serious_ one. You probably would have _actually_ died if it weren't for your... matesprit being there. That word still feels strange to think about. Not in a _bad_ way at all, just... you're not used to it. You aren't used to feeling this way about someone, or someone feeling that way about you.

The confession was rather hasty and took more than a few minutes to completely process. You were hardly conscious at the time, which didn't help. But when the words "I love you" slipped out of his shark-toothed mouth, you knew your heart skipped several beats. It's funny looking back on it now, but at the time, it was a moment of desperation and apology, which eventually turned to embarrassment. He thought you were asleep.

He thought you were on death's doorstep.

But yes, it's fine now. You've just got injuries to recover from that would suit you better to stay far away from that damn canyon. To be honest, you're not sure if you'll ever be going back there. There was nothing left but carnage and destruction when you last set your eyes upon it.

> Dismas: Stand up.

You stand with trembling knees that threaten to give out beneath you and send you tumbling into the nearest TV set, but you manage to catch yourself by keeping a steady hand on the couch's arm. After a few moments to recollect yourself, you inch towards the other room, hearing the chorus of too many screens get louder with each fragile step.

Through this doorway, you can see him idly spinning in his chair with a rubix cube in his hands, clearly distracted from whatever he was doing prior. It’s not like he does much anyways, you’ve noted, other than continuing to keep a watchful eye on your circle of friends (he’s yet to remove the cloth covering Ellsee’s designated screen. You still don’t know what she did).

Your entrance grabs his attention almost immediately, and he gives you a nervous yet genuine smile, like it’s a facial expression he hasn’t learned how to pull off yet. It's sweet and comforting nonetheless. Then he opens his mouth to speak, uncharacteristically stuttering a few undecided fragments before he figures it out.

MURRIT: >([are you, uh...]  
MURRIT: >([do you need something?]  
DISMAS: /\m I wh/\t?///  
MURRIT: >([just wanted to know if you were feelin’ fine.]  
MURRIT: >([you look like those aspen woods when the cyclones come around; shakin' like a fuckin' poloroid.]  
DISMAS: I don’t...///  
DISMAS: _Hff.///_  
DISMAS: Ye/\h, I’m fine///  
DISMAS: I /\ctu/\lly c/\me in to check on _you,_ so...///  
MURRIT: >([why would i need checking on?]

He says it so matter-of-factly, his face contorting into confusion and that same nervous smile. You feel a spike of concern, one eyebrow raising itself.

DISMAS: ...Why _wouldn’t_ you?///  
MURRIT: >([i’m not the one recovering from a near-death experience.]  
MURRIT: >([are you sure you don’t need to sit down?]  
DISMAS: You were there too. It would be beyond stupid to s/\y neither of us /\re moder/\tely to se\/erely tr/\um/\tized///  
DISMAS: ...Besides, I don’t need /\ re/\son to w/\nt to see you///  
DISMAS: It's not like I h/\\\/e /\nyone else to bother while I'm hiding out here///

_"And I love you,"_ you forget to say.

MURRIT: >([that’s...]  
MURRIT: >([okay, you’ve made your point.]

He gets up and approaches you, half gesturing to the room you just left. He doesn’t need to say anything for you to know he wants to talk; not necessarily about anything serious, just to talk. He may be a “very online guy” in his own words, but you have a hard time believing he doesn’t struggle with the heaving weight of loneliness. You can see it in the portions of his eyes visible at a close-up glance through his shades; he never gets to be open with someone else, and it consistently keeps him from sleeping.

> Dismas: Sit down again.

There's a few hesitant inches between you. It's still pretty awkward being around him now that the whole nature of your relationship has flipped itself on its head; you're almost _afraid_ to be close to him at all. You can assume he feels the same, only much more... guilty. But you're not going to think about that just yet.

MURRIT: >([is everything, uh... healing okay?]  
DISMAS: It's mostly sc/\rred o\/er by now, /\side from the uh, intern/\l things///  
DISMAS: Prob/\bly won't t/\ke much longer for th/\t to f/\de, too///  
DISMAS: But uh...///  
DISMAS: It feels \/ery wrong not being home///  
MURRIT: >([how come?]  
MURRIT: >([it ain't exactly a home, is it?]  
DISMAS: No, it re/\lly w/\sn't, but///  
DISMAS: I'm h/\lf expecting to w/\ke up soon /\nd re/\lize th/\t none of this is re/\l /\nd I'm still tr/\pped///  
DISMAS: I definitely didn't do /\nything to deser\/e such /\ sudden uphe/\\\//\l /\nd complete liber/\tion///  
DISMAS: To think th/\t the only w/\y I w/\s /\ble to free myself would'\/e cost me my life h/\d you not been there...///  
DISMAS: It's too much///  
MURRIT: >([did you ever do anything to deserve being trapped there and scuffed up on the daily to begin with?]  
DISMAS: ...///  
DISMAS: I guess not///  
DISMAS: I re/\lly don't w/\nt to think /\bout it for /\ while///  
MURRIT: >([let's talk about something else then.]  
DISMAS: Oh, like wh/\t?///  
DISMAS: I h/\\\/en't been outside since I got here///  
DISMAS: ...Or checked my mess/\ges///  
MURRIT: >([you wanna do that first?]  
DISMAS: Y-ye/\h, um, I re/\lly fucking hope nobody thinks I'm /\ctu/\lly de/\d///  
MURRIT: >([already let 'em all in on the 411. told them not to bother you too much.]  
MURRIT: >([but i wouldn't be surprised if they did anyways.]

> Dismas: Check messages.

Thankfully, there's not a lot outside of the awful spammy mess the group memo had become. Just a few from Arcjec and Albion, and quite a handful from Jentha. You smile to yourself as you scroll through her ramblings, sending a quick response to let her know you'll talk later. For now, you still have something you need to ask.

DISMAS: Wh/\t ex/\ctly /\re you getting up to in /\ll this free time?///  
DISMAS: We don’t h/\\\/e to worry /\bout /\nything /\nymore, nobody’s in immedi/\te d/\nger th/\t requires 12/6 sur\/eillance.///  
DISMAS: It’s honestly kind of s/\d seeing you just sit in there w/\iting for c/\t/\strophe to h/\ppen///

Murrit sinks down, exhaling a trembling sigh. The worry is made obvious by his furrowed brows and the way he presses his lips together.

MURRIT: >([that’s the thing. uh...]  
MURRIT: >([you know what people say about the calm before the storm.]  
MURRIT: >([it’s never been so easy, y’know? it’s quiet and the grass is greener on this side of the lawn now.]  
MURRIT: >([but there’s that gut feeling i always get when the weather is pleasant.]  
MURRIT: >([always keeping me on my toes, and...]  
MURRIT: >([i shouldn’t be, uh, telling you this stuff. haha.]  
DISMAS: Wh/\t? Why not?///  
MURRIT: >([it is not your cross to bear. not now.]  
MURRIT: >([i didn’t want to send you into a panic. especially not so soon after... all of that happened.]  
MURRIT: >([just... forget i said anything. let’s start over.]

He was right about sending you into a panic. If there is even the smallest possibility that something horrible might happen, you’re more than inclined to side with it, rather than choose to believe it’s unlikely.

DISMAS: Why wouldn't you w/\nt me to know this??!?///

You see regret seep into Murrit's face almost immediately, as he notices you beginning to spiral into fear. Hurriedly, he hushes you, putting panicked hands up defensively.

MURRIT: >([no, listen, i-]  
MURRIT: >([fuck. look, it's not your job to keep us all safe and blissful, i just-]  
DISMAS: It's not _your_ fucking job either!!///  
DISMAS: You shouldn't h/\\\/e to just t/\ke up /\ll responsibility like th/\t, it's not he/\lthy or producti\/e///

He looks half upset, half like there's something he hasn't told you or anyone else. He bites his lip.

You give him a look to let him know that you know he's hiding something, and you're a little upset at him, but still willing to listen.

MURRIT: >([trust me when i say you don't want to know what i saw.]

You blink, confused and taken off-guard.

DISMAS: Huh?///  
MURRIT: >([you look like you want to ask me something.]  
MURRIT: >([so i, uh, connected the dots, y'know.]  
DISMAS: I still don't underst/\nd///  
DISMAS: So you s/\w something then? When?///  
MURRIT: >([shoulda just kept my mouth shut.]  
MURRIT: >([it was sweeps ago, anyways. doesn't matter anymore.]  
DISMAS: Well cle/\rly it does, since you'\/e still got /\ co\/er o\/er th/\t screen /\nd you're /\cting like some /\wful tr/\gedy w/\s thrust upon you///  
DISMAS: Hence the whole m/\rtyr complex bullshit///

Murrit's eyes go wide for a moment, shoulders tensing. But he exhales away the stress.

MURRIT: >([it's not a fuckin' martyr complex.]  
MURRIT: >([i just want people to be safe.]  
DISMAS: /\t le/\st tell me wh/\t she did///  
DISMAS: It doesn’t do /\nyone /\ny good to bottle things up///

He folds his arms, leaning forward to rest them on his knees. His face is... distraught. Like he's holding back a fit of tears. And clearly he must be, since it's a good minute or two before he decides to talk again, and even then, there are breaks in his voice that weren't there before.

MURRIT: >([i... don't know. i don't know what she did, alright?]  
MURRIT: >([i only know it's existence-threateningly dangerous and you'd be better off not knowing.]  
MURRIT: >([and it's not like i could put it into any combination of words that would fully paint the big-picture scale of what it entails.]  
DISMAS: /\re you... ok/\y?///  
MURRIT: >([i'm fine.]  
MURRIT: >([it just hurts to think.]  
DISMAS: When doesn’t it, huh?///

You share a laugh together, one ragged and weary. And then it’s all quiet. A warm silence, at least. But quiet.

DISMAS: We...///  
DISMAS: You should t/\ke /\ step b/\ck I think///  
DISMAS: P/\r/\noi/\ /\lw/\ys gets the best of us both, you shouldn’t let it win///  
MURRIT: >([you want me to stop watching?]  
DISMAS: Yes///  
DISMAS: For /\ little while, th/\t’s /\ll///

He cautiously reaches to your hand, entangling his fingers with yours. All you can think about is how his fingers are almost ice cold, yet a surge of warmth still fills your chest.

MURRIT: >([yeah, alright.]


End file.
